


In the Time Gone By

by MSquared79



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A common enemy, Family, Gen, Politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 16:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12536480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MSquared79/pseuds/MSquared79
Summary: Varys returns to Meereen after his meeting with Olenna and Ellaria with news from Westeros.  He recounts the events of the last few years to Daenerys' Small Council, from the High Sparrow to the coming of winter.  There are reactions on all sides, but none more than from Tyrion.





	In the Time Gone By

**Author's Note:**

> This is my attempt to explain why Varys was on the ship with Dany, Tyrion and Missandei when they set sail for Westeros at the end of season 6. It didn't make sense, since he was already over there, for him to go to Meereen and then come back. Apologies if it doesn't totally fit with the Dany/Varys scene in "Stormborn".
> 
> I've been working on a few other stories and can see a string that could connect them all together. May be the beginnings of a series, may not. As of right now, there is another story I'm editing that will be posted, hopefully by Wednesday (cause I'm going on vacation and want it done and up before I go.)
> 
> Unbeta'd, but it's been sitting on my computer of almost a week, so I've been looking back at it with fresh eyes, trying to find any typos, errors in timeline, etc, a few times. I love to hear from my readers, so drop me a line!

Tyrion met Varys at the entrance to the throne room of the Great Pyramid. He had seen the sails of the Dornish ship as it arrived in Meereen’s harbor and let Queen Daenerys know. She ordered that upon his immediate arrival, there would be a meeting of the Small Council. 

At the sight of the Spider, he puffed out his chest, showing off the pin he now wore. Ever unflappable, his compatriot offered his usual, unimpressed expression. “Is that all you have to say to me? Have I not been abroad, slaving away at negotiations with two powerful families?” He harrumphed as he he began to walk to the meeting. “Besides, I hear the masters returned for their goods and were only stopped by the dragons. That does not speak well of your deal.”

“I had everything perfectly under control. But, Drogon’s arrival did help matters greatly,” Tyrion replied, trying to salvage his pride. “Our Queen wishes to see you immediately. I hope you have good news.”

Varys stopped at that, and when Tyrion noticed himself to be a few steps ahead, he saw the odd look on his friend’s face. “My lord, I think it behooves us that we speak privately, before I give my report to Her Grace.”

“No, she was insistent. ‘I wish to have him before me at once,’ she ordered me. So, let us not keep her waiting any longer,” Tyrion said. Varys sighed, but followed.

Tyrion had persuaded Daenerys to have the meeting in her private chambers. It was, as far as Tyrion knew, the first time they would be in a room together. He also knew that the Queen knew of Varys’ service to Robert Baratheon. He had done his best to quell the Dragon Queen’s fire, but she could be unpredictable. When they arrived, however, Daenerys looked every inch the sensible, wise monarch, not the fire-breather that could be unleashed.

Also present were Yara and Theon Greyjoy. Daenerys had invited the Ironborn to join her makeshift council when they had agreed to be allies. Missandei and Grey Worm were there, as well, looking as stoic as ever. “Your Grace, may I present Lord Varys, the former Master of Whisperers to the Iron Throne.”

For his part, Varys bowed deeply to the Queen. Tyrion knew that, despite years of appearances, he had remained loyal to House Targaryen through the service of two kings. It was he, Tyrion explained, that convinced the dwarf to seek out Daenerys once they had escaped Westeros. It was only due to his abduction by Jorah Mormont that he had arrived in the Queen’s service before the Spider.

“Your Grace, it is an honor to meet you at long last. I have heard tales of your journey across Essos and see that you have accomplished even more than I had expected. Long may you reign, Mother of Dragons,” Varys said, bowing again.

It was Daenerys, now, that wore the unflappable face. There was a charged moment, where Tyrion had thought that she would drop her cool facade. But in the end, she nodded her head to Varys. “My Lord, my Hand has told me of a secret mission you undertook on my behalf to Westeros. I did not know I had given permission for you to speak for me in diplomatic matters.”

“My apologies, Your Grace, but I had only arrived in Meereen after the incident at Daznak’s Pit. And as it was unknown how long you were to be away, once I heard from my contact, it was of the utmost import that I act as quickly as possible. I humbly ask for your forgiveness,” Varys replied, ever the supplicant. 

“It depends on your results, Lord Varys,” came the response. Daenerys waved her hand at an empty chair across from her and he took it, with Tyrion seating himself next to the Queen.

“My overtures, Your Grace, have born fruit. The Dornish are eager to meet with you, as is Olenna Tyrell,” Varys said.

“Olenna?” Tyrion asked. “Why not her son, or even Loras? I mean, I know they are both a bit idiotic, but…”

Varys looked at Tyrion again, that same look he had given him when he arrived. “There is much news from Westeros, Your Grace. Many events have happened since your Lord Hand and myself left.”

“Please, then, bring me up to date on events.”

Varys paused and looked down at his hands before beginning. “After the death of Tywin Lannister, Cersei began an effort to remove the Tyrells, more specifically Margery, from King’s Landing. Without going into every detail, as it was a winding plot, she allied herself with an orthodox Septon, who, once Cersei had succeeded, turned on her and humiliated her in doing it. Then, using Queen Margery, he began to expand his influence with the king, again, much to Cersei’s displeasure.”

Tyrion raised an eyebrow, upon hearing about the events. “Cersei humiliated? I regret not being there to witness it,” he japed, reaching for a pitcher of wine.

Varys’ eyes slid to him, but then returned to the Queen. “Cersei was to stand trial by seven Septons for a number of crimes she had been accused of, the same day there was a similar trial for Loras Tyrell. Cersei, however, never showed up at the Great Sept of Baelor. Some time into the proceedings, there was an…” again Varys paused, sparing a glance at Tyrion, “explosion. Hundreds were killed, including Margery, Loras and Mace Tyrell and Kevan Lannister, who had been named Hand of the King.”

Tyrion froze. An explosion? Dear Gods, had she known? 

He was about to inquire further when Varys continued. “Shortly after the explosion, King Tommen’s body was found at the base of the Red Keep. Witnesses saw him fall from a window. He was Cersei’s last surviving child.”

“No, what about Myrcella?” the Queen’s Hand asked quickly, his memory bringing him to the image of a young blonde girl. He had sent her to Dorne, to marry Prince Doran’s heir.

“Cersei recalled her after a threat was made against her well-being. Jaime was dispatched to bring her back to King’s Landing, but she died en route. All of which happened some months before the destruction of the Sept,” Varys turned to Tyrion now, his eyes full of sympathy. “My condolences, my Lord. I know the affection you had for your niece and nephew.”

Tyrion could take no more. He could feel the tears threatening his eyes. “Excuse me, Your Grace,” he said hurriedly before running from the room, not waiting for the permission to be dismissed.

It was a while later that Daenerys found him in his own apartment. She was probably not surprised to see an empty decanter on the desk. The Queen approached him, slowly, as if expecting a lion to pounce.

He raised his eyes to look at her face. He saw only heartbreak there. They had spoken often, in the past few weeks, about Westeros. Home. He had told her all about his family, the good and the bad. Joffrey, Tywin and Cersei were the bad, naturally, but he had nothing but warm memories to share about Jaime and the children. “I sent her to Dorne, you know? I was trying to find who would leak information to my sister, and set up Varys, Grand Maester Pycelle and Master of Coin Petyr Baelish with information about deals I was brokering for Myrcella’s hand. When I discovered it was Pycelle, I had him thrown in the dungeons, but still sent Myrcella to Dorne. It is my fault she is dead. As for Tommen, and all those people in the Sept…He was always such a sweet boy. He would ask me, when he was young, why I was so small and if he would one day be bigger than I.” He took a long gulp of his wine. “Cersei finished what Aerys began.” Daenerys looked away from him, aware of her father’s culpability in what had happened, even so long after his death. She may have understood, now, why Jaime had broken his oath and killed her father. Jaime. Tyrion sobered up quickly, thinking of his brother. “Where was my brother?”

Daenerys knelt before him and took his hand. “Lord Varys told of being sent to Riverrun to retake the castle that had been given to House Frey. He only arrived back in King’s Landing after it had happened,” she said gently.

“I cannot even think what he is going through, having seen what he stopped happening all these years later,” Tyrion said sadly. “Say what you will about my brother, and it has been said often, but there is an honor to him. He knows right from wrong, good from evil.” Then with another thought, he added, “Except, at times, where Cersei is concerned.”

Varys now appeared in the doorway. “From what my little birds reported, he was not enthusiastic when, later, he entered the Throne Room to see Cersei being crowned Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Something about that released a bitter laugh from the dwarf. He should have seen that coming from leagues away. “Cersei got what she always wanted. The crown, all to herself.”

Tyrion could see Daenerys fuming, probably at the thought of Cersei Lannister sitting on the Iron Throne. But she surprised him, his Queen. “I have seen the foulness that can come from our own trees. I know that a part of me mourned Viserys, but I knew his death was necessary. There is a spark of you that will still be aflamed when she is no more. But you know we must defeat her.”

Somewhere, deep down, his Queen was right. He may have hated his sister, may have wished her dead more times than not, but he did have some respect for her, some love for her when he saw her give it to her children. He had once said it was her one redeeming quality, beside her cheekbones. Now, with all of them dead, so too died that part of his feelings for his sister. 

“Is there any good news, dear Spider? Or must we wipe the slate clean on the whole of Westeros?” he asked, pulling himself together.

Varys merely nodded, waiting for the Queen to lead the way back to the meeting. Once they were all settled in, and Tyrion had another full glass of wine at the ready should he need it, the Master of Whisperers continued. “As you know, the Boltons connived with your father in the Red Wedding. Roose Bolton was even the one who delivered the killing blow to Robb Stark. Well, I am happy to report that Roose Bolton, and his House, are no more.”

Theon swung his eyes to Varys. “Ramsey…?” he asked, holding his breath for the answer.

Varys smiled. “He has been dealt with, though I don’t have all the details. Suffice it to say, Winterfell, and the North, is back in the hands of House Stark.”

Theon let out a few puffs as he shed tears. Tyrion had known what Ramsey Bolton had done to the son of Balon Greyjoy. There had part of a conversation between Daenerys and Yara that he had caught about the revenge they would seek upon those who crossed them and their families. Yara had informed the Queen, out of earshot of her brother, just what had happened to Theon, even beyond the physical damage, and Daenerys had fumed on his behalf. 

But Tyrion had caught the end of what Varys had said. “The Starks?”

Varys’ smile only grew. “Your Lady wife, and her half-brother, restored the family to the North. There was a great battle, one with the moniker ‘Battle of the Bastards’ in which the Starks and some of their bannermen, along with Wildings indebted to Jon Snow, were victorious.”

That didn’t make sense to Tyrion. Jon Snow was of the Night’s Watch. They vowed not to involve themselves in the affairs of the Seven Kingdoms. How had Jon Snow, obviously one of the aforementioned bastards, waded into a such a battle?

“Remind me again about House Stark,” Daenerys piped in.

Tyrion spoke up. “They were Wardens of the North from the time of Aegon the Conquerer, and before that, Kings. After my nephew Joffrey had Ned Stark executed, his son Robb declared independence for the North. Robb and his mother were the ones butchered at the Red Wedding. At that time, I was married to the eldest daughter, Sansa.” He closed his eyes, unwanted memories of seeing her face, knowing that she knew what had happened, washed over him. “To the best of my knowledge, it was believed that the three youngest children, Arya, Brandon and Rickon, were presumed dead in the chaos of the War of the Five Kings.”

“Jon Snow is the bastard son of Lord Eddard Stark,” Varys chimed in, a new, queerer look on his face. “Again, and I apologies for the lack of details, but he was released from his vows to the Night’s Watch, reunited with Sansa Stark and rallied the North.”

“What is Night’s Watch?” Grey Worm asked, breaking the silence he had maintain from the beginning of the meeting.

“It is a brotherhood of warriors who protect the Wall, the most Northern border of Westeros, from grumpkins and snarks,” Tyrion explained, appreciating the Unsullied commander’s preparations again potential armies they would encounter in Westeros. “They take many vows, to not involve themselves in the conflicts with the Seven Kingdoms, to ‘take no wife, father no children and hold no titles’. There are some others, but I don’t remember them. They will be the least of your worries over there.” He paused, then said, “The only release they have from their vows is death. Unless someone, a king maybe, releases them themselves. It is a rare occurrence, but it happens.” Something occurred to him. “What happened to Stannis Baratheon? He was claiming the throne, he may have allowed Snow to leave in the absence of any legitimate male Starks.”

“Stannis is dead,” Theon said. All eyes turned to him. “He engaged the Boltons in battle. Stannis was killed by a lady knight, the sworn sword of Lady Catelyn Stark. That was when Sansa and I made our escape.”

Tyrion had not heard of this. Sansa had been at Winterfell when it was in possession of the Boltons? “Why did you have to rescue Lady Sansa?”

Theon looked everywhere but in Tyrion’s eyes. It was Yara who spoke up. “Lady Sansa was married off to the tender mercies of Ramsey Bolton,” she explained, rubbing her brother’s back. “Knowing what you know about him, you can guess how she was treated.”

“But how did she get there in the first place? I grant you that the last time I saw her was as Joffrey was dying, but I never heard a word about her from then until my escape from King’s Landing.”

“She had traveled to the Vale with Lord Baelish and then he brought her to Winterfell and brokered the betrothal,” Theon spoke up, his eyes less haunted. 

“Petyr Baelish?” Tyrion exclaimed, spilling some of his wine. “How in the gods’ names did she...oh, never mind. My brain is hurting at all the contortions the North has gone through. At least Lady Sansa is safe and home.”

“Be assured, Your Grace, my Lord Hand, I have sent plenty of my little birds to gain further details of recent events,” Varys said with a nod of his head.

“Thank you, my Lord,” Daenerys replied. Then she turned her attention to the rest. “So, we have Cersei Lannister on my throne, the North still in rebellion again my crown and Olenna Tyrell swearing fealty to me. Am I to guess Prince Doran has done likewise?”

“Sadly, Prince Doran and his son have also died in our time away. Dorne is now ruled by Ellaria Sand, paramour to the late Prince Oberyn Martell, and mother to one of his many children. But they have also sworn themselves to our Queen,” Varys explained. 

At the mention of Ellaria, a thought hit Tyrion. “How did my niece die?” he asked Varys directly. When no answer was forthcoming, he turned to the Queen. “Your Grace, I ask only one favor of you. I would like to exchange a few words with our new allies in Dorne. No violence, no threats, just...words.” He knew Daenerys had little idea what he was talking about, but mutely acceded to his request.

Then she turned back to her Small Council. “Events have moved swiftly while I have been here in Essos,” she said “Do we have a plan about what to do next?” Her attention was back on Tyrion.

After a moment, he sat up straighter. “As a matter of fact, I have been planning ahead. I think the time has come for us to make our way to Westeros. We now have plenty of ships to ferry the Unsullied and the Dothraki, solving a major problem we faced.” He nodded his head to Yara, who gave the barest hint of a smile. “I think it will be best if we make landfall at Dragonstone. It is the ancient seat of House Targaryen, and the place where you were born. Send ravens offering invitations to Lady Olenna Tyrell and,” the next words came growled out, “Ellaria Sand. Let us start there until we can get our bearings and plot the attack on King’s Landing. I would ask out of respect to Lady Sansa, who I do still hold in some affection, to wait until we secure the Iron Throne from my cunt of a sister before turning our eyes northward.”

“Before I left,” Varys interrupted, “Ellaria received a white raven from the Citadel. The archmaesters have declared that winter has come, so I would concur with my Lord Hand. Better to wait the season out.”

“Winter is coming,” Tyrion intoned. “The motto of House Stark. Though the talk before I left was a guess that it would be the longest, harshest winter in a thousand years. Wait but not too long.”

“Unsullied are ready at your command, my Queen,” Grey Worm said with a reverence in his voice.

“The Dothraki will take some time to prepare themselves and their horses for the journey across the sea, Your Grace. They are still unsure if it is wise to make such a crossing,” Missandei said.

“The Iron Fleet only awaits your command, Your Grace. But there is some anxiousness on the part of my crews to begin the fight. And Theon and I do still have an uncle to hunt down and kill,” Yara added.

Daenerys nodded. “I can promise that Dragonstone will shortly be back in the hands of House Targaryen,” she swore. “Then we will retake the Seven Kingdoms, one by one. From the Westerlands to the Riverlands and then lastly,” she tipped her head to Tyrion, “to the North.”

Tyrion returned the gesture, grateful for the reprieve he had gifted the Starks, though they would probably never know. And he prayed to the gods for the continued safety of Sansa. He had never wanted any harm to come to her, and now she appeared to at last be reunited with some of her family. He also sent a prayer for Jaime. He knew they would meet again, most likely on opposite sides of a battle, but he did still love his brother, the only family he cared about anymore.

Tyrion stood up from his chair and poured a glass of wine for all who had gathered. He raised his own, and toasted towards the Queen. “To Daenerys Targaryen, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Rightful Heir to the Iron Throne, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains.” He paused, a note of uncertainty on his face. “My, that is a mouthful. Best think of another toast. To Daenerys and victory in her name.” 

They echoed through the Great Pyramid of Meereen.


End file.
